 | The Staple of Newes |  |
37
Act. III.
Scene. I.
Fitton.Cymbal, to them Picklocke. Register. Clerke. Tho: Barber.
You hunt vpon a wrong scent still, and thinke
The ayre of things will carry 'hem, but it must
Be reason and proportion, not fine sounds,
My cousin Cymball, must get you this Lady.
You haue entertain'd a petty-fogger here,
Picklocke, with trust of an Emissaries place,
And he is, all, for the young Prodigall,
You see he has left vs.
Cym.
Come, you doe not know him,
That speake thus of him. He will haue a tricke,
To open vs a gap, by a trap-doore,
When they least dreame on't. Here he comes. What newes?
Pick.
Where is my brother Buz? my brother Ambler?
The Register, Examiner, and the Clerkes?
Appeare, and let vs muster all in pompe,
For here will be the rich Infanta, presently,
To make her visit. Peny-boy the heyre,
My Patron, has got leaue for her to play
With all her traine, of the old churle, her Guardian.
Now is your time to make all court vnto her;
That she may first but know, then loue the place,
And shew it by her frequent visits here:
And afterwards, get her to soiourne with you.
She will be weary of the Prodigall, quickly.
Cym.
Excellent newes!
Fit.
And counsell of an Oracle!
Cym.
How say you cousin Fitton?
Fit.
brother Picklock,
I shall adore thee, for this parcell of tidings,
It will cry vp the credit of our Office,
Eternally, and make our Staple immortall!
Pick.
Looke your addresses, then, be faire and fit,
38
With all the migniardise, and quaint Caresses,
You can put on 'hem.
Fit.
Thou seem'st, by thy language,
No lesse a Courtier, then a man o' Law.
I must embrace thee.
Pic.
Tut, I am Vertumnus,
On euery change, or chance, vpon occasion,
A true Chamælion, I can colour for't.
I moue vpon my axell, like a turne-pike.
Fit my face to the parties, and become
Streight, one of them.
Cym.
Sirs, vp, into your Desks,
And spread the rolls vpon the Table, so.
Is the Examiner set?
Reg.
Yes, Sir.
Cym.
Ambler, and Buz,
Are both abroad, now.
Pic.
Wee'll sustaine their parts.
No matter, let them ply the affayres without,
Fitton puts on the office cloake, and Cymbal the gowne.
Let vs alone within, I like that well.
On with the cloake, and you with the Staple gowne,
And keep your state, stoupe only to the Infanta;
We'll haue a flight at Mortgage, Statue, Band,
And hard, but we'll bring Wax vnto the retriue:
Each knew his seuerall prouince, and discharge it.
Fitton is brought about.
Fit.
I do admire this nimble ingine, Picklock.
Cym.
Cuz,
What did I say?
Fit.
You haue rectified my errour!
Scene. II.
Peni-boy. Iv.P. Canter. Pecvnia. Statvte. Band. Mortgage. Wax. Broker. Cvstomers.
By your leaue, Gentlemen, what newes? good, good still?
I' your new Office? Princesse, here's the Staple!
This is the Gouernor, kisse him, noble Princesse,
For my sake. Thom, how is it honest Thom?
Hee tells Pecunia of Thom.
How does thy place, and thou? my Creature, Princesse?
This is my Creature, giue him your hand to kisse,
He was my Barber, now he writes Clericus!
I bought this place for him, and gaue it him.
P. Ca.
He should haue spoke of that, Sir, and not you:
Two doe not doe one Office well.
P. Iv.
'Tis true,
But I am loth to lose my curtesies.
P. Ca.
So are all they, that doe them, to vaine ends,
39
P. Iv.
No more o' your sentences, Canter, they are stale,
We come for newes, remember where you are.
I pray thee let my Princesse heare some newes,
Good Master Cymbal.
Cym.
What newes would she heare?
Or of what kind, Sir?
P. Iv.
Any, any kind.
So it be newes, the newest that thou hast,
Some newes of State, for a Princesse.
Cym.
Read from Rome, there.
Tho.
They write, the King of Spaine is chosen Pope.
P. Iv.
How?
Tho.
And Emperor too, the thirtieth of February.
P. Iv.
Is the Emperor dead?
Cym.
No, but he has resign'd,
And trailes a pike now, vnder Tilly.
Fit.
For pennance.
P. Iv.
These will beget strange turnes in Christendome!
Tho.
And Spinola is made Generall of the Iesuits.
P. Iv.
Stranger!
Fit,
Sir, all are alike true, and certaine.
Cym.
All the pretence to the fifth Monarchy,
Was held but vaine, vntill the ecclesiastique,
And secular powers, were vnited, thus,
Both in one person.
Fit.
'T has bin long the ayme
Of the house of Austria.
Cym.
See but Maximilian.
His letters to the Baron of Bouttersheim,
Or Scheiter-huyssen.
Fit.
No, of Liechtenstein,
Lord Paul, I thinke.
P. Iv.
I haue heard of some such thing.
Don Spinola made Generall of the Iesuits!
A Priest!
Cym.
O, no, he is dispenc'd with all,
And the whole society, who doe now appeare
The onely Enginers of Christendo me.
P. Iv.
They haue bin thought so long, and rightly too.
Fit.
Witnesse the Engine, that they haue presented him,
To winde himselfe with, vp, into the Moone:
And thence make all his discoueries!
Cym.
Read on.
Tho.
And Vittellesco, he that was last Generall,
Being now turn'd Cooke to the society,
Has drest his excellence, such a dish of egges—
P. Iv.
What potch'd?
Tho.
No, powder'd.
Cym.
All the yolke is wilde fire,
As he shall need beleaguer no more townes,
But throw his Egge in.
Fit.
It shall cleare consume,
Palace, and place; demolish and beare downe,
All strengths before it!
Cym.
Neuer be extinguish'd!
Till all become one ruine!
Fi.
And from Florence,
Tho.
They write was found in Galileos study,
A burning Glasse (which they haue sent him too)
To fire any Fleet that's out at Sea—
Cym.
By Mooneshine, is't not so?
Tho.
Yes, Sir, i'the water.
P. Iv.
His strengths will be vnresistable, if this hold!
Ha' you no Newes against him, on the contrary?
40
Yes, Sit, they write here, one Cornelius-Son,
Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Eele,
To swimme the hauen at Dunkirke, and sinke all
The shipping there.
P. Iv.
Why ha'not you this, Thom?
Gym.
Because he keeps the Pontificiall side.
Peny-boy will haue him change sides:
P. Iv.
How, change sides, Thom. 'Twas neuer in my thought
To put thee vp against our selues. Come downe,
Quickly.
Cym.
Why, Sir?
P. Iv.
I venter'd not my mony
Vpon those termes: If he may change; why so.
I'll ha him keepe his owne side, sure.
Fit,
Why, let him,
'Tis but writing so much ouer againe.
P. Iv.
For that I'll beare the charge: There's two Pieces,
Fit.
Come, do not stick with the gentleman.
Cym.
I'l take none Sir.
And yet he shall ha'the place.
P. Iv.
They shall be ten, then,
though hee pay for it.
Vp, Thom: and th'Office shall take 'hem. Keep your side, Thom.
Know your owne side, doe not forsake your side, Thom.
Cym.
Read.
Tho.
They write here one Cornelius-Son,
Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Eele,
To swimme the Hauen at Dunkirke, and sinke all
The shipping there.
P. Iv.
But how is't done?
Cym.
I'll shew you Sit.
It is an Antoma, runnes vnder water,
With a snug nose, and has a nimble taile
Made like an auger, with which taile she wrigles
Betwixt the coasts of a Ship, and sinkes it streight.
P. Iv.
Whence ha'you this newes.
Fit.
From a right hand I assure you;
The Eele-boats here, that lye before Queen-Hyth,
Came out of Holland.
P. Iv.
A most braue deuice,
To murder their flat bottomes.
Fit.
I doe grant you:
But what if Spinola haue a new Proiect:
To bring an army ouer in corke-shooes,
And land them, here, at Harwich? all his horse
Are shod with corke, and fourescore pieces of ordinance,
Mounted vpon cork-carriages, with bladders,
In stead of wheeles to runne the passage ouer
At a spring-tide.
P. Iv.
Is't true?
Fit.
As true as the rest.
P. Iv.
He'll neuer leaue his engines: I would heare now
Some curious newes.
Cym.
As what?
P. Iv.
Magick, or Alchimy
Or flying i'the ayre, I care not what.
Cla.
They write from Libtzig (reuerence to your eares)
The Art of drawing farts out of dead bodies,
Is by the Brotherhood of the Rosie Crosse,
Produc'd vnto perfection, in so sweet
And rich a tincture—
Fit.
As there is no Princesse,
But may perfume her chamber with th'extraction.
P. Iv.
There's for you, Princesse.
P. Ca.
What, a fart for her?
P. Iv.
I meane the spirit.
P. Ca.
Beware how she resents it.
P. Iv.
And what hast thou, Thom?
Tho.
The perpetuall Motion,
41
At the signe o' the dancing Beares.
P. Iv.
What, from her tap?
I'll goe see that, or else I'll send old Canter.
He can make that discouery.
P. Ca.
Yes, in Ale.
P. Iv.
Let me haue all this Newes, made vp, and seal'd.
Reg.
The people presse vpon vs, please you, Sir,
The Register offers him a roome.
Withdraw with your faire Princesse. There's a roome
Within, Sir, to retyre too.
P. Iv.
No, good Register,
We'll stand it out here, and obserue your Office;
What Newes it issues.
Reg.
'Tis the house of fame, Sir,
Where both the curious, and the negligent;
The scrupulous, and carelesse; wilde, and stay'd;
The idle, and laborious; all doe meet,
To tast the Cornu copiæ of her rumors,
Which she, the mother of sport, pleaseth to scatter
Among the vulgar: Baites, Sir, for the people!
And they will bite like fishes.
P. Iv.
Let's see't.
Dop.
Ha' you in your prophane Shop, any Newes
O'the Saints at Amsterdam?
Reg.
Yes, how much would you?
Dop.
Six peny worth.
Reg.
Lay your mony down, read, Thomas.
Tho.
The Saints do write, they expect a Prophet, shortly,
The Prophet Baal, to be sent ouer to them,
To calculate a time, and halfe a time,
And the whole time, according to Naömetry.
P. Iv.
What's that?
Tho.
The measuring o'the Temple: a Cabal
Found out but lately, and set out by Archie,
Or some such head, of whose long coat they haue heard,
And being black, desire it.
Dop.
Peace be with them!
Reg.
So there had need, for they are still by the eares
One with another.
Dop.
It is their zeale.
Reg.
Most likely.
Dop.
Haue you no other of that species?
Reg.
Yes,
But dearer, it will cost you a shilling.
Dop.
Verily,
There is a'nine-pence, I will shed no more.
Reg.
Not; to the good o'the Saints?
Dop.
I am not sure,
That, man is good.
Reg.
Read, from Constantinople,
Nine penny'orth.
Tho.
They giue out here, the grand Signior
Is certainely turn'd Christian, and to cleare
The controuersie 'twixt the Pope and him,
Which is the Antichrist; he meanes to visit
The Church at Amsterdam, this very Sommer,
And quit all marks o'the beast.
Dop.
Now ioyfull tydings.
Who brought in this? Which Emissary?
Reg.
Buz.
Your countrey-man.
Dop.
Now, blessed be the man,
And his whole Family, with the Nation.
Reg.
Yes, for Amboyna, and the Iustice there!
This is a Doper, a she Anabaptist!
Seale and deliuer her her newes, dispatch.
42
Ha' you any newes from the Indies? any mirac l
Done in Iapan, by the Iesuites? or in China?
Cla.
No, but we heare of a Colony of cookes
To be set a shore o' the coast of America,
For the conuersion of the Caniballs,
And making them good, eating Christians.
Here comes the Colonell that vndertakes it.
C. 2.
Who? captaine Lickfinger?
Lic.
Newes, newes my boyes!
I am to furnish a great feast to day,
And I would haue what newes the Office affords.
Cla.
We were venting some of you, of your new proiect,
Reg.
Afore 'twas paid for, you were somewhat too hasty.
P. Iv.
What Lickfinger! wilt thou conuert the Caniballs,
With spit and pan Diuinity?
Lic.
Sir, for that
I will not vrge, but for the fire and zeale
To the true cause; thus I haue vndertaken:
With two Lay-brethren, to my selfe, no more,
One o the broach, th'other o'the boyler,
In one sixe months, and by plaine cookery,
No magick to't, but old Iapnets physicke,
The father of the European Arts,
To make such sauces for the Sauages,
And cookes their meats, with those inticing steemes,
As it would make our Caniball-Christians,
Forbeare the mutuall eating one another,
Which they doe doe, more cunningly, then the wilde
Anthropophagi; that snatch onely strangers,
Like my old Patrons dogs, there.
P. Iv.
O, my Vncles!
Is dinner ready, Lickfinger?
Lic.
When you please, Sir.
I was bespeaking but a parcell of newes,
To strew out the long meale withall, but't seemes
You are furnish'd here already.
P. Iv.
O, not halfe!
Lic.
What Court-newes is there? any Proclamations,
Or Edicts to come forth.
Tho.
Yes, there is one.
That the Kings Barber has got, for aid of our trade:
Whereof there is a manifest decay.
A Precept for the wearing of long haire,
To runne to seed, to sow bald pates withall,
And the preseruing fruitfull heads, and chins,
To help a mistery, almost antiquated.
Such as are bald and barren beyond hope,
Are to be separated, and set by
For Vshers, to old Countesses.
Lic.
And Coachmen.
To mount their boxes, reuerently, and driue,
Like Lapwings, with a shell vpo' their heads.
Thorow the streets. Ha'you no Newes o'the Stage?
They'll aske me abou new Playes, at dinner time.
43
Tho.
O! yes.
There is a Legacy left to the Kings Players,
Both for their various shifting of their Scene,
And dext'rous change o'their persons to all shapes,
And all disguises: by the right reuerend
Archbishop of Spalato.
Lic.
He is dead,
That plai'd him!
Tho.
Then, h'has lost his share o' the Legacy.
Lic.
What newes of Gundomar?
Tho.
A second Fistula,
Or an excoriation (at the least)
For putting the poore English-play, was writ of him,
To such a sordid vse, as (is said) he did,
Of cleansing his posterior's.
Lic.
Iustice! Iustice!
Tho.
Since when, he liues condemn'd to his share, at Bruxels.
And there sits filing certaine politique hinges,
To hang the States on, h'has heau'd off the hookes.
Lic.
What must you haue for these?
P. Iv.
Thou shalt pay nothing,
But reckon 'hem in i'the bill. There's twenty pieces,
Hee giues 20. pieces, to the Office.
Her Grace bestowes vpon the Office, Thom,
Write thou that downe for Newes.
Reg.
We may well do't,
We haue not may such.
P. Iv.
There's twenty more,
If you say so; my Princesse is a Princesse!
Doubles it.
And put that too, vnder the Office Seale.
Gym.
If it will please your Grace to soiourne here,
Cymbal takes Pecunia aside, courts and wooes her, to the Office.
And take my roofe for couert, you shall know
The rites belonging to your blood, and birth,
Which few can apprehend: these sordid seruants,
Which rather are your keepers, then attendants,
Should not come neere your presence. I would haue
You waited on by Ladies, and your traine
Borne vp by persons of quality, and honour,
Your meat should be seru'd in with curious dances,
And set vpon the boord, with virgin hands,
Tun'd to their voices; not a dish remou'd,
But to the Musicke, nor a drop of wine,
Mixt, with his water, without Harmony,
Pec.
You are a Courtier, Sir, or somewhat more;
That haue this tempting language!
Cym.
I'm your seruant,
Exellent Princesse, and would ha' you appeare
That, which you are. Come forth State, and wonder,
Of these our times, dazle the vulgar eyes.
And strike the people blind with admiration.
P. Can.
Why, that's the end of wealth! thrust riches outward,
And remaine beggers within: contemplate nothing
But the vile sordid things of time, place, money,
And let the noble, and the precious goe,
Vertue and honesty; hang 'hem; poore thinne membranes
Of honour; who respects them? O, the Fates!
44
Fitton hath beene courting the waiting-women, this whole, and is ieered by them.
Since money, this base money 'gan to haue any!
Ban.
Pitty, the Gentleman is not immortall.
Wax.
As he giues out, the place is, by description.
Fit.
A very Paradise, if you saw all, Lady.
Wax.
I am the Chamber-maid, Sir, you mistake,
My Lady may see all.
Fit.
Sweet Mistresse Statute, gentle Mistresse Band,
And Mother Mortgage, doe but get her Grace
To soiourne here.—
Pic.
I thanke you gentle Waxe,
Mor.
If it were a Chattell, I would try my credit.
Pic.
So it is, for terme of life, we count it so.
Sta.
She meanes, Inheritance to him, and his heyres:
Or that he could assure a State, of yeeres:
I'll be his Statute-Staple, Statute-Merchant,
Or what he please.
Pic.
He can expect no more.
Ban.
His cousin Alderman Security,
That he did talke of so, e'en now—
Sta.
Who, is
The very broch o'the bench, gem o'the City.
Ban.
He and his Deputy, but assure his life
For one seuen yeeres.
Sta.
And see what we'll doe for him,
Vpon his scarlet motion.
Ban.
And old Chaine,
That drawes the city-eares.
Wax.
When he sayes nothing,
But twirles it thus.
Sta.
A mouing Oratory!
Ban.
Dumb Rethoricke, and silent eloquence!
As the fine Poet saies!
Fit.
Come, they all scorne vs,
Doe you not see't? the family of scorne!
Bro.
Doe not belieue him! gentle Master Picklocke,
They vnderstood you not: the Gentlewomen,
They thought you would ha' my Lady soiourne, with you,
And you desire but now and then, a visit?
Pic.
Yes, if she pleas'd, Sir, it would much aduance
Vnto the Office, her continuall residence!
(I speake but as a member)
Bro.
'Tis inough.
I apprehend you. And it shall goe hard,
But I'll so worke, as some body shall worke her!
Pic.
'pray you change with our Master, but a word about it.
P. Iv.
Well, Lickfinger, see that our meat be ready,
Thou hast Newes inough.
Lic.
Something of Bethlem Gabor,
And then I'm gone.
Tho.
We heare he has deuis'd
A Drumme, to fill all Christendome with the sound:
But that he cannot drawe his forces neere it,
To march yet, for the violence of the noise.
And therefore he is faine by a designe,
To carry 'hem in the ayre, and at some distance,
Till he be married, then they shall appeare.
Lic.
Or neuer; well, God b'wi'you (stay, who's here?)
45
Cla.
H'has taken a gray habit, and is turn'd
The Churches Millar, grinds the catholique grist
With euery wind: and Tilly takes the toll.
Cvs. 4.
Ha' you any newes o'the Pageants to send downe?
Into the seuerall Counties. All the countrey
Expected from the city most braue speeches,
Now, at the Coronation.
Lic.
It expected
More then it vnderstood: for, they stand mute,
Poore innocent dumb things; they are but wood.
As is the bench and blocks, they were wrought on, yet
If May-day come, and the Sunne shine, perhaps,
They'll sing like Memnons Statue, and be vocall.
Cvs. 5.
Ha'you any Forest-newes?
Tho.
None very wild, Sir,
Some tame there is, out o'the Forrest of fooles,
A new Parke is a making there, to seuer
Cuckolds of Antler, from the Rascalls. Such,
Whose wiues are dead, and haue since cast their heads,
Shall remaine Cuckolds-pollard.
Lic.
I'll ha' that newes.
Cvs. 1.
And I.
2.
And I.
3.
And I.
4.
And I.
5.
And I.
Cym.
Sir, I desire to be excus'd; and, Madame:
Peny-boy would inuite the Master of the Office
I cannot leaue my Office, the first day.
My Cousin Fitton here, shall wait vpon you.
And Emissary Picklocke.
P. Iv.
And Thom: Clericus?
Cym.
I cannot spare him yet, but he shall follow you,
When they haue ordered the Rolls. Shut vp th'Office,
When you ha' done, till two a clocke.
Scene. III.
Shvnfield.Almanack. Madrigal. Clerkes.
By your leaue, Clerkes,
Where shall we dine to day? doe you know? the Ieerers.
Alm.
Where's my fellow Fitton?
Tho.
New gone forth.
Shv.
Cannot your Office tell vs, what braue fellowes
Doe eat together to day, in towne, and where?
Tho.
Yes, there's a Gentleman, the braue heire, yong Peny-boy.
Dines in Apollo.
Mad.
Come, let's thither then,
I ha 'supt in Apollo!
Alm.
With the Muses?
Mad.
No,
But with two Gentlewomen, call'd, the Graces.
Alm.
They' were euer three in Poetry.
Mad.
This was truth, Sir:
46
Sir, Master Fitton's there too!
Shv.
All the better!
Alm.
We may haue a ieere, perhaps.
Shv.
Yes, you'll drink, Doctor.
(If there be any good meat) as much good wine now,
As would lay vp a Dutch Ambassador.
Tho.
If he dine there, he's sure to haue good meat,
For, Lickfinger prouides the dinner.
Alm.
Who?
The glory o'the Kitchin? that holds Cookery,
A trade from Adam? quotes his broths, and sallads?
And sweares he's not dead yet, but translated
In some immortall crust, the past of Almonds?
Mad.
The same. He holds no man can be a Poet,
That is not a good Cooke, to know the palats,
And seuerall tastes o'the time. He drawes all Arts
Out of the Kitchin, but the Art of Poetry,
which he concludes the same with Cookery.
Shv.
Tut, he maintaines more heresies then that.
He'll draw the Magisterium from a minc'd-pye,
And preferre Iellies, to your Iulips, Doctor.
Alm.
I was at an Olla Podrida of his making,
Was a braue piece of cookery! at a funerall!
But opening the pot-lid, he made vs laugh,
who had wept all day! and sent vs such a tickling
Into out nostrills, as the funerall feast
Had bin a wedding-dinner.
Shv.
Gi'him allowance,
And that but moderate, he will make a Syren
Sing i'the Kettle, send in an Arion,
In a braue broth, and of a watry greene,
Iust the Sea-colour, mounted on the backe
Of a growne Cunger, but, in such posture,
As all the world would take him for a Dolphin.
Mad.
Hee's a rare fellow, without question! but
He holds some Paradoxes.
Alm.
I, and Pseudodoxes.
Mary, for most, he's Orthodox i'the Kitchin.
Mad.
And knowes the Clergies tast!
Alm.
I, and the Layties!
Shv.
You thinke not o' your time, we'll come too late,
If we go not presently.
Mad.
Away then.
Shv.
Sirs,
You must get o'this newes, to store your Office,
VVho dines and sups i' the towne? where, and with whom?
'Twill be beneficiall: when you are stor'd;
And as we like our fare, we shall reward you.
Cla.
A hungry trade, 'twill be.
Tho.
Much like D. Humphries,
But, now and then, as th'holesome prouerb saies,
'Twill obsonare famem ambulando.
Cla.
Shut vp the Office: gentle brother Thomas.
Tho.
Brother, Nathaniel, I ha' the wine for you.
I hope to see vs, one day, Emissaries.
Cla.
Why not? S'lid, I despaire not to be Master!
47
Scene. IV.
Peni-boy. Se.Broker. Cymbal.
How now? I thinke I was borne vnder Hercules starre!
He is started with Broker's comming back.
Nothing but trouble and tumult to oppresse me?
Why come you backe? where is your charge?
Bro.
I ha' brought
A Gentleman to speake with you?
P. Se.
To speake with me?
You know 'tis death for me to speake with any man.
What is he? set me a chaire.
Bro.
He's the Master
Of the great Office.
P. Se.
What?
Bro.
The Staple of Newes,
A mighty thing, they talke Six thousand a yeere.
P. Se.
Well bring your sixe in. Where ha' you left Pecunia?
Bro.
Sir, in Apollo, they are scarce set.
P. Se.
Bring sixe.
Bro.
Here is the Gentleman.
P. Se.
He must pardon me,
I cannot rise, a diseas'd man.
Cym.
By no meanes, Sir,
Respect your health, and ease.
P. Se.
It is no pride in me!
But paine, paine; what's your errand, Sir, to me?
Hee sends Broker backe.
Broker, returne to your charge, be Argus-eyed,
Awake, to the affaire you haue in hand,
Serue in Apollo, but take heed of Bacchus.
Goe on, Sir.
Cym.
I am come to speake with you.
P. Se.
'Tis paine for me to speake, a very death,
But I will heare you!
Cym.
Sir, you haue a Lady,
That soiournes with you.
P. Se.
Ha? I am somewhat short
He pretends infirmity.
In my sense too—
Cym.
Pecunia.
P. Se.
O' that side,
Very imperfect, on—
Cym.
Whom I would draw
Oftner to a poore Office, I am Master of—
P. Se.
My hearing is very dead, you must speake quicker.
Cym.
Or, if it please you, Sir, to let her soiourne
In part with me; I haue a moyety
We will diuide, halfe of the profits.
P. Se.
Ha?
I heare you better now, how come they in?
Is it a certaine businesse, or a casuall?
For I am loth to seeke out doubtfull courses,
Runne any hazardous paths, I loue streight waies,
A iust, and vpright man! now all trade totters.
The trade of money, is fall'n, two i'the hundred.
That was a certaine trade, while th'age was thrifty,
And men good husbands, look'd vnto their stockes,
Had their mindes bounded; now the publike Riot
Prostitutes all, scatters away in coaches,
In foot-mens coates, and waiting womens gownes,
They must haue veluet hanches (with a pox)
48
Now taken vp, and yet not pay the vse;
Bate of the vse? I am mad with this times manners.
Cym.
You said e'en now, it was death for you to speake.
P. Se.
I, but an anger, a iust anger, (as this is)
Puts life in man. Who can endure to see
The fury of mens gullets, and their groines?
It mou'd more and more.
What fires, what cookes, what kitckins might be spar'd?
What Stewes, Ponds, Parks, Coupes, Garners, Magazines?
What veluets, tissues, scarfes, embroyderies?
And laces they might lacke? They couet things—
Superfluous still; when it were much more honour
They could want necessary! What need hath Nature
Of siluer dishes? or gold chamber-pots?
Of perfum'd napkins? or a numerous family,
To see her eate? Poore, and wise she, requires
Meate onely; Hunger is not ambitious:
Say, that you were the Emperour of pleasures,
The great Dictator of fashions, for all Europe,
And had the pompe of all the Courts, and Kingdomes,
Laid forth vnto the shew? to make your selfe
Gaz'd, and admir'd at? You must goe to bed,
And take your naturall test: then, all this vanisheth.
Your brauery was but showen; 'twas not possest:
While it did boast it selfe, it was then perishing.
Cym.
This man has healthfull lungs.
P. Se.
All that excesse
Appear'd as little yours, as the Spectators.
It scarce fills vp the expectation
Of a few houres, that entertaines mens liues.
Cym.
He has the monopoly of sole-speaking.
He is angry.
Why, good Sir? you talke all.
P. Se.
Why should I not?
Is it not vnder mine owne roofe? my feeling?
Cym.
But I came hete to talk with you.
P. S.
Why, an' I will not
Talke with you, Sir? you are answer'd, who sent for you?
Bids him get out of his house,
Cym.
Nobody sent for me—
P. Se.
But you came, why then
Goe, as you came, heres no man holds you, There,
There lies your way, you see the doore.
Cym.
This's strange!
P. Se.
'Tis my ciuility, when I doe not rellish
The party, or his businesse. Pray you be gone, Sir.
I'll ha' no venter in your Ship, the Office
Your Barke of Six, if 'twere sixteene, good, Sir.
Cym.
You are a rogue.
P. Se.
I thinke I am Sir, truly.
Cymbal railes at him.
Cym.
A Rascall, and a money-bawd.
P. Se.
My surnames:
Cym.
A wretched Rascall!
P. S.
You will ouerflow—
He ieeres him.
And spill all.
Cym.
Caterpiller, moath,
Horse-leach, and dung-worme—
P. Se.
Still you lose your labor.
I am a broken vessell, all runnes out:
A shrunke old Dryfat. Fare you well, good Sixe.
49
The third Intermeane after the third Act.
Censvre.A notable tough Rascall! this old Peny-boy! right
City-bred!
Mirth.
In Siluer-streete, the Region of money, a goodseat for a
Vsurer.
Tatle.
He has rich ingredients in him, I warrant you, if they were extracted,
a true receit to make an Alderman, an' he were well wrought vpon,
according to Art.
Exp.
I would faine see an Alderman in chimia! that is a treatise of
Aldermanity truely written.
Cen.
To shew how much it differs from Vrbanity.
Mirth.
I, or humanity. Either would appeare in this Peny boy,
an' hee were rightly distill'd. But how like you the newes? you are gone
from that.
Cen.
O, they are monstrous! scuruy! and stale! and too exotick!
ill cook'd! and ill dish'd!
Exp.
They were as good, yet, as butter could make them!
Tat.
In a word, they were beastly buttered! he shall neuer come o' my
bread more, nor my in mouth, if I can helpe it. I haue had better newes from
the bake-house, by ten thousand parts, in a morning: or the conduicts in
Westminster! all the newes of Tutle-street, and both the Alm'ries!
the two Sanctuaries long, and round Wool-staple! with Kings-street,
and Chanon-row to boot!
Mirth.
I, my Gossip Tatle knew what fine slips grew in Gardinerslane;
who kist the Butchers wife with the Cowes-breath; what matches
were made in the bowling-Alley, and what bettes wonne and lost; how
much grieft went to the Mill and what besides: who coniur'd in Tutlefields,
and how many? when they neuer came there. And which Boy rode
vpon Doctor Lambe, in the likenesse of a roaring Lyon, that runne away
with him in his teeth, and ha's not deuour'd him yet.
Tat.
Why, I had it from my maid Ioane Heare-say: and shee had
it from a limbe o'the schoole, shee saies, a little limbe of nine yeere old;
who told her, the Master left out his coniuring booke one day, and hee
found it, and so the Fable came about. But whether it were true, or no,
we Gossips are bound to beleeue it, an't be once out, and a foot: how should wee
entertaine the time else, or finde our selues in fashionable discourse, for all
companies, if we do not credit all, and make more of it, in the reporting?
Cen.
For my part, I beleeue it: and there were no wiser then I, I would
haue ne'er a cunning Schoole-Master in England. I meane a Cunning-Man, a
Schoole-Master; that is a Coniurour, or a Poet or
that had any acquaintance with a Poet. They make all their schollers
Play-boyes! Is't not a fine sight, to see all our children made Enterluders?
Doe wee pay our money for this? wee send them to learne their
50
they talke, we shall haue no more Parliaments (God blesse vs) but an' wee
haue, I hope, Zeale-of-the-land Buzy, and my Gossip, Rabby Trouble-truth
will start vp, and see we shall haue painfull good Ministers to
keepe Schoole, and Catechise our youth, and not teach 'hem to speake
Playes, and Act Fables of falsenewes, in this manner, to the super-uexation
of Towne and Countrey, with a wanion.
| The Staple of Newes | |